An heroical panegyrick humbly dedicated to the Reverend Father in God, Gilbert, Lord Bishop of Salisbury / by Mrs. A.M.

An Historical Panegyrick , &c. HAIL Reverend Prelate both of Church and State , Who bravely hast out-brav'd the Shocks of Fate ; Rome , and her Seniors of the greatest Fame , Dread your Applause , and Tremble at your Name : And yet they Court you with a Curling Brow , Amaz'd they stand , and Wonder what you do To Awe the World , and Charm each Monarch too ; With Sheba's Queen they flock to hear and see The Maxims of Divine Humanitie ; Your Fame 's Admir'd , and your Works Ador'd , By every Senate Worship'd as a God ; So sweet , so soft's your Stile , Authentick too , Plato himself , is at a loss in you ; Who dar'st pretend to Write your Character ? Not Dryden , no ; nor all the Muses dare : Your Merits are too Great for Cowley's Pen , And what I aim at , wants a Nobler Strain . With humble Patience you the Stroke indur'd , Which Silence , and your Death at once procur'd , Had not propitious Stars prevented all , And gave your Doom , a Doomer's fatal Fall ; When forc'd by Malice , from your Country Fled , And doubly Banisht , without Fear , or Dread , You — Like a Brave Hero smil'd the occasion Dead ; Your Wisdom manag'd all , yet unconcern'd You mov'd , as if you never had discern'd . Prophetick Russel ( Jealous of the Cause , Which almost vanquisht Liberty and Laws ) Were he alive he would your Courage greet , And Level Trophyes at Your Lordship's Feet ; With Transports wrapt in Joy how wou'd he raise His Ravisht Notes , in Hecatombs of Praise . The greedy Lyon missing of his Prey , How wou'd he Tryumph , in your Halcion Day ? With Moses thou hast Sacred Wonders Wrought , And through the Sea , a Conqu'ring Army brought ; At thy Request , the Raging Waves were Calm , Neptune Obey'd , and Chid each Roaring Storm ; Aeolus and the Tritons of the Deep , Husht into Golden Slumbers , fell asleep . Thus by a Strong and Mighty Potent Hand , You brought 'em safe to this Distressed Land , Whilst Hero's strove who shou'd the Victor be , Nought but the Bible won the Victorie ; The Sacred Spell , our Souldiers put to flight , Their Swords Inchanted , silent as the Night They stole away , and darst not stand to fight ; Your Prayers Ascending to the Imperial Throne Remov'd your Station , and remov'd the Crown : Nor can Time's Annals , ever parallel , What , not long since , to Prince , and People fell ; Without Effusion of their purple Gore , They flew like Lightning , and were seen no more : The Great , the Small , all in a yielding tone Pleaded Religion , whilst their Prince was gone And in a Wretched Minute quite undone . Thus by the power of your Magick Art ( Divinely blest ) you made our Army start ; With a Resistless Courage , on you led , And rais'd your Drooping Honour from the Dead : Such a Prodigious Wonder , ne'er was heard , Without a Fight , so many Thousands scar'd : But 't was Decreed the Greatest should be Crost A Pensive King , and his Three Kingdoms lost . There is no lasting Satisfaction here The Best may hope , and yet at last despair . So Wisely the Magnetick Point you 've steer'd Your happy Journey , cou'd not much be fear'd ; Had Troy , had such an Angel in the Front , The Famous City never had been Burnt ; Nor Carthage lost , nor General Hannibal To his disgrace receiv'd a fatal Fall . King Syphax too , had boldly fill'd his Throne Thôcirc ; a Usurper to the Curta Crown . Blest Angels Guarded you to England's Shoar , To Cherish Souls , the Bodies of the Poor ; And as you are a Pattern to Mankind , Three Nations Restauration to design : May all your Joyes in perfect Circles move , To suture Ages , and Example prove ; May you encrease those Vertues in your Brest Which will Illustrate , and compleat the rest ; And may the Mytre flourish on your Head Through Forreign Empires , may your Fame be spread : Immortal Live your Sacred Memory , And doubly blest to all Eternity ; Thus far Excels the Glory of the Just , Their Worthy Actions blossom in the Dust . FINIS .